


Leaping Under the Influence

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: To Leap, to Fall: Al Calavicci x Sam Beckett [1]
Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Drunkenness, Episode Related, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during the episode "The Last Gunslinger."  Sam is drunk as hell; Al is there to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaping Under the Influence

Al watched Sam, fighting off a feeling of amusement and a slight touch of genuine worry. It had been a long, long time since he’d seen Sam this drunk, and even if there was a nagging feeling in Al’s gut about the gunfight tomorrow, he still found himself trying not to laugh at the way Sam staggered.

“Now Al. Al. I’m sure I could shoot the gun if I _had_ to. I just don’t _want_ to. It’s just not _necessary_ ,” Sam slurred, working hard to find the stair rail and pull himself up the stairs. He managed it, messily, his boots skurring against the wood. He stood on the porch, wobbling, and reached for the door, getting the handle on the second try.

“Will you just promise me that you’ll try to learn tomorrow?” Al asked, sighing. “I’m telling you, that man out there is not the type to just agree to disagree.”

“Fine. Whatever – whatever you say,” Sam said, stumbling into the front room. Al walked through the wall to join him. 

Al looked Sam up and down. The mussed hair, the bleary expression. They were a little too familiar to Al from looking in the mirror, not that long ago. The amusement he had felt earlier was fading. “You’re gonna have a helluva hangover tomorrow. You’d better get some water into you. You’ll still be a mess but you just might avoid puking your guts out.”

“Look, Al, I’m a doctor,” Sam muttered belligerently. “I think I know how to take care of myself.” He wagged a finger at Al reproachfully, then proved his point with a misstep that took him straight into the wall, smacking his shin. “That… was not taking care of myself.”

“C’mon, get some water,” Al said again. God, drunks could be so damn distractible. He felt a pang for a moment, wishing he could grab Sam by the shoulders and steer him towards the water, then help him up the stairs to bed. He reached out for a second, half-heartedly, before letting his hand fall.

“Just to make you happy,” said Sam, and wandered into the kitchen. Al followed to see Sam fumbling with the sink, turning on the faucet and splashing water onto his face. He grabbed a glass and drank a decent amount before bowing to Al with a flourish. “Will you stop badgering me now?” he asked.

“Actually, I’m impressed by your motor skills. That was pretty good; almost looked sober. Could have fooled me except for that.” Al gestured to the sink that was now overflowing with water from the tap Sam had forgotten to turn off. Sam quickly shut the faucet off, rolling his eyes and raising his eyebrows in a particularly sloppy expression.

“Satisfied?”

“As much as I’m gonna be, yeah.”

Sam grinned, the smile creasing his face. It was strange, always, to see Sam inhabiting someone else; but after a day or two, Al usually got the hang of it, seeing the tilt of Sam’s head or the way his hands moved in someone else’s skin. Al could see the old man standing there in the kitchen, but under that he almost imagined he could see Sam’s familiar face, the way that the smile always reached his eyes.

“I gotta get up to bed,” Sam said presently, shaking his head. “Got a big day tomorrow.” He left the kitchen, heading up the stairs to the old man’s bedroom. Al followed closely behind him. Not that he could catch Sam if he stumbled, but he still felt better, making sure that Sam could make the climb safely without tumbling backwards and cracking his head.

Sam made it into the man’s room with little incident, just a stubbed toe here, a bump into the wall there. He went in and shut the door, turning on the light, and started hauling his clothes off as Al wandered in. Sam started in surprise.

“Al. You’re still here. Don’t tell me you’re gonna tuck me in,” Sam joked, staggering just a little as he pulled his jeans off.

“Just making sure you made it up here okay,” said Al, shaking his head. “You got yourself in a real state tonight, you know.”

“Oh, I know it. I know it.” Sam pointed at Al. “You see, I am _intoxicated_.”

“I mighta picked up on that, yeah.”

“And that doesn’t really happen often to Sam Beckett!” Sam said, laughing, as he pulled off his shirt and sat down heavily on the bed in his shorts. “I always try to keep my head, make sure to play it safe… sometimes that gets a little – a little boring, Al.” An odd look crossed his face, then; his eyes seemed to darken. 

Al recognized it as the moment when a happy drunk shifts to an emotional one, and he frowned. “Sam,” he said in a warning voice. “You’re just a little drunk. Don’t worry about – whatever you’re worrying about.”

The look on Sam’s face just deepened, the lines around his mouth becoming furrows. “Thanks for looking after me.”

“Well, I didn’t want you to fall and break your neck on the way up –“

“I mean… all of it.” Sam fidgeted with his hands, twisting his fingers together, looking down at them instead of at Al. “All of these leaps.”

Al looked at the other man, fighting back a sudden wave of emotion. Did Sam know what it took out of him, the constant fear that Sam would be hurt, or lost, or killed? Did Sam recognize the fact that Al could no longer lead a normal life, that he was tied to Sam’s leaping in a way that shoved everything else aside? Did Sam know just how tired, how goddamn tired, Al was of missing him?

Sam spoke into the silence. “Al. I –“ He went silent again, his mouth quirking to one side as he tried to think of something to say. 

“It’s okay, Sammy,” said Al, with a small smile. “You’re – welcome.”

The handlink buzzed. They wanted to talk to him. Al held up the beeping handlink, shrugging, half grateful for the interruption, half angry about it. “Gotta go.”

Sam rose back to his feet. “Guess I’ll get some sleep.” He made it to the wall, flicking the light off.  
There was a brief burst of light as Al opened the door to leave the imaging chamber; just enough to illuminate Sam’s face, too close to Al’s to be an accident, too close to be anything but what it was.

A goodnight kiss.

Al closed his eyes, wishing, hoping, for just a moment. Then the hiss of the imaging chamber door pulled him away, and he stepped through, to an empty room.

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't get over how fucking angsty the entire hologram situation is. I just really, really can't. It's not enough to be leaped around in time; they can *never* touch, either. SO MUCH ANGST INHERENT IN THIS SHOW.


End file.
